


deny the accusation

by softsocky



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, they're both so dang oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 12:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13031022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsocky/pseuds/softsocky
Summary: Sanha and Minhyuk were getting good at tip-toeing around each others feelings for each other. Christmas has a way of changing that.





	deny the accusation

**Author's Note:**

> what up team, here it is

❤ ❤ ❤

They met on a Tuesday morning.

Sanha had only just made it under the cover of the science building when thunder boomed outside, sending a shock through his body as though he had been struck. He hated thunder, hated the lightning that accompanied it _more_ , and usually on days like this he’d wrap himself up in his blankets and wouldn’t leave until the storm had well and truly passed. But Sanha wasn’t a child anymore, and he had a _job_ now – like an actual adult. Except, he was only _just_ eighteen years old and a first-year, nowhere near being old enough to fend for himself. But here he was, fending.

Or attempting to, at least. He was halfway into his walk to campus when he realised he hadn’t packed his umbrella, and his rain jacket was stuffed somewhere at the bottom of a box he’d yet to unpack. He quickened his pace, but there hadn’t been much use. The light pitter-patter of rain soon picked up into a heavy downpour – one that overflowed gutters and storm drains, made people question whether or not to fetch the sand bags from the garage – and his clothes had soaked right on through to his bones. With the science building in sight, his run slowed to a jog.

Underneath the protection of thick concrete walls and solid metal reinforcements, Sanha allowed himself to breathe. He dropped his bag by his feet so he could lean over in front of himself, shaking his hands through his hair to dispel some of the water. When he stood up straight again, he immediately jerked back.

“Hello,” the voice that came from the boy directly in front of him was kind of like gravel, but by no means in a bad way; though at the same time, it was smooth and gentle like water untouched.

“Er,” the boy was staring at him with a polite smile, but Sanha was observant enough to see that it was also laced with nerves. The boy was cute, Sanha decided, especially with how he tucked his blue button-up into his blue jeans, the hems rolled high enough for him to see his ankles. He was small, at least compared to Sanha, but by no means _weak_ or vulnerable looking. In fact, he looked stronger than Sanha did – which was not at _all_ – but his eyes were kind and hot-chocolatey warm. Sanha didn’t know who he was or why he was talking to him, but he didn’t really mind. He had only just moved into his dorm and he’d yet to make any friends, so to him, this was a good start.

The boy smiled, “are you Sanha?”

For a second, Sanha’s eyes narrowed, and his mind was fuzzy with residue recognition. The way the boy said his name seemed vaguely familiar, like he’d heard it said that way before, like he was—

“Oh!” He must have exclaimed it louder than intended, because across from him the boy’s eyebrows shut up underneath his hair. “You’re Minhyuk!”

The boy – Minhyuk – had spoken to him on the phone a few days ago, saying that he had in fact gotten the job he’d applied for. Upon leaving home and into the dorms, the first thing Sanha had done before unpacking was applying to as many flexible jobs as he could. Everyone must have been doing the same thing, though, because jobs were disappearing as fast as they came, and he hadn’t heard anything from anyone. That was until he saw flyers around the empty campus advertising a new coffee cart opening in the science building for the new semester, and Sanha had immediately emailed through his resume, hoping for the best. Where hope had sometimes been Sanha’s worst enemy, this time it had not been – and Minhyuk had announced his acceptance without the need for an interview.

Minhyuk wasn’t his boss – he made this very clear on the phone – merely someone who had been working at another café on campus for a year, which had been forced to close due to refurbishments. In doing so, he had joined the coffee cart – conveniently named Café C3, the location name of the building it sat in – and helped fill the job vacancies. When Sanha had found out he had gotten the job, he’d let out a high-volume squeal into the phone, repeatedly thanking the _Park Minhyuk_ who had given him the news.

“That’s me!” He said with a shy giggle, before stretch his hand out in front of him.

Sanha hesitated, looked down at his soaking-wet appearance, and cringed. He didn’t want to shake his hand like this. “I’m wet.”

Minhyuk snorted. “I could have _sworn_ your name was Sanha. My mistake! Hi Wet, I’m Minhyuk!” Sanha groaned. “Now, if you follow me, I’ll show you how we open up in the mornings—”

He dragged Sanha by the elbow across the large open space, over to the locked coffee cart, and into a friendship so close and strong and _rare_ that Sanha had no chance of ever seeing it coming. Love _was_ blind, after all.

 

❤ ❤ ❤

Minhyuk – or _Rocky_ as Sanha had come to know him by – was a year older than he was, so his classes were harder and his face a little more mature and his hands a bit bigger, but his boyish silliness matched that of Sanha’s to a tee. They had been nicknamed the _cackling coffee couple_ by their co-workers and regular customers, and whilst they probably meant something by it, Sanha and Rocky knew it was just because they were so close. Sanha had never had a friend quite like Rocky before – someone nicknamed after a _stone_ but was so far from being _cold_ like one that it wasn’t even funny.

The warm and fuzzy boy was standing in front of him now, looking at the ceiling fan that spun so fast on its axel that Sanha feared it would come crashing down onto his friend. On that thought, he slid up into Rocky’s space and looped and arm around his waist. With his head resting on the shorter boy’s shoulder, Sanha could feel the sweep of the air as it rotated around the room. He closed his eyes, listening to the faint buzz of the realtor’s voice, and the vibrating hum of Rocky’s.

Sanha was good at some things – he’d like to think he was fairly good at his degree, Journalism, and at cooking – but when he was as deprived of sleep as he was now, he could barely function, let alone focus on a flat inspection. So, he let Rocky do the looking and the _inspecting_ and now he let him do the talking, and while Sanha might have felt bad about it before, the way Rocky wrapped his own arm around Sanha’s waist told him not to.

Sanha was smiling against his neck, snickered at the professionalism in Rocky’s voice, before detangling himself. He headed towards the kitchen, feeling Rocky’s eyes follow after him as the real estate agent spoke about the bond and how garden maintenance was included in the weekly rent. The kitchen wasn’t as large as Sanha would have liked, or as new, but it was as good as their budget would allow them. Both students, and both working similar shifts, Sanha and Rocky knew what kind of money they had to play around with.

Deciding to move in with each other had been a natural progression of their friendship. After a year of working together at the coffee cart, Rocky had waltzed in one morning looking frazzled and overworked. Sanha had instantly started to make his usual coffee, adding in an extra shot, and demanding he speak. Rocky was unable to deny Sanha this: they told each other everything, good and bad, and the comfort that was always there was undeniably effective. So, Rocky ranted. He ranted about how crappy his house mates were, how inconsiderate, and how all he wanted was a quiet place where he liked going home too. Instead, he lived somewhere he was afraid of, the place full of tobacco smoke and strange white powder and rotting food in the fridge.

Then, without even questioning it, Sanha had said “why don’t we move in together?”

Sanha had to be out of his dorm by the new year anyways, and he was after the same sort of thing Rocky was and – to be perfectly honest – living with someone who studied the same damn thing as you and worked the same damn job seemed ideal. That, and Rocky was Sanha’s best friend, and the whole concept of living together excited him above all else.

Rocky hadn’t even hesitated in accepting, and had organised all their inspections from the get-go. Sanha tagged along, knowing that while he’d be happy anywhere, Rocky valued his opinion most. Sometimes, Sanha wouldn’t say much at all – like today – but sometimes, he’d make it very clear if he disliked a place. Sometimes it was just the feel of the place, others the neighbourhood, or the commute. This place they were in now, though, with a wilting plant on the kitchen windowsill, and a bright red front door, with two spacious bedrooms with window seats all within walking distance to campus – it felt _perfect._ Rocky would be able to tell, too. He had this way of reading Sanha like no other could, no other had even bothered. Sanha was forever grateful for his best friend, not really knowing where he’d be without him.

He felt Rocky’s solid presence behind him now, and then a hand on his hip. Rocky put himself in the same position Sanha had just done – head resting on his shoulder, arm around his waist – and sighed against the skin of his neck. Sanha shivered, rested his own head against the elders.

There was silence, aside from the sound of traffic that was somewhat soothing instead of annoying, and the foggy hum of the refrigerator. Then, behind them, came “how long have you been together?”

Rocky snatched his hand away when Sanha jumped in his arms, snapping his body around to look at Jenny, the realtor. She looked as if she showed genuine curiosity, hands tucked together in front of her, eyes wide and glistening as she looked between the two of them. Sanha felt his cheeks go red at the accusation, because _gross_ , and a quick glance at Rocky showed Sanha he was having the same train of thought.

“No—I mean,” Rocky was stumbling over his words, something Sanha normally would have found cute had he not been so embarrassed. “We’re not _dating_!”

With that, Rocky snatched one of the application forms from the top of the kitchen bench with his left hand, and Sanha in his right, and tugged them so far out the door Sanha could barely wave goodbye to Jenny.

 

Jenny approved their application three days later.

 

❤ ❤ ❤ 

Rocky hadn’t liked her at first.

Sanha wouldn’t go as far as saying he _hated_ her, but it had gotten close. She was a tiny little thing, white all over with a sloppy pink tongue and a black button nose. Teeny tiny feet pattered excitedly over to the wire when Sanha wrapped his fingers around it, and the _coton du tulear_ wiggled its body and yapped. While Sanha cooed and brushed his fingers down the silky coat of the puppy, Rocky had just _scowled_.

See, Rocky had this argument that he didn’t like _cute_ things – save for Sanha himself, of course – so the cat-sized dog hadn’t really done anything for him. Sanha though, Sanha’s _face_ , did. His eyes mimicked that of the dogs, all wide and twinkly with hope, and there was no chance Rocky was going home without that puppy today.

After they had finished moving in all their belongings to their new flat together, Sanha had made a comment in passing about the ‘small pets considered’ option on their application form. Rocky had thought nothing of it, saying that it was cruel to have a pet that couldn’t go outside. That changed, though, when Sanha burst through the front door after his classes were done for the day, holding a half-ripped envelope. Rocky said nothing from his position on the couch, knowing Sanha well enough to know that he was going to tell him what it was about whether he asked or not.

Turns out, the body corp and owners combined had decided to tear up the communal concrete courtyard out the front of the complex, and lay down grass and put a fence up, too. According to the letter, tenants were becoming disgruntled with not having a functional space for during the summer and for pets.

Sanha flopped down the couch beside Rocky, ignoring the elders grunt of protest when he stretched his body flat along his. Sanha’s nose was touching his, now, and their lips _almost_ grazing against each other. The length of their bodies was pressed to each other, too, though Rocky pushed aside all the inappropriate thoughts he was having to snatch at the letter in Sanha’s hand.

Part of him had hoped Sanha had made the letter up, typed up a fake one and maybe learned how to forge a believable signature. Though, he hadn’t. The letter was undeniably real, which meant Sanha’s comments about adopting a dog became more frequent.

Weeks passed in the same fashion. Sanha pestering him relentlessly about getting a dog – _just a small one, Rock, I promise –_ together, because that’s what best friends do. On one rare occasion when Sanha hadn’t joined Rocky to lunch with his friends, Rocky had brought Sanha’s persistence up. Bin and MJ – classmates he’d met in his first year, and had been friends with ever since – just looked at him with disbelief.

“A dog?” MJ’s voice was laced with something comical.

Bin just narrowed his eyes at him, mouth ajar. “Sanha wants to get a _dog_ ,” he said, trailing off.

“—with _you?_ ” MJ finished. Bin and MJ turned to each other, before spitting out a laugh.

“What?”

MJ shook his head at Rocky. “You’re an idiot.”

Rocky huffed, turning to Bin, who just shrugged. “I mean…not even Dongmin and _I_ have a pet yet.”

He shook his head. “So?”

MJ snorted, “ _so,_ if Mum and Dad don’t even have a pet, what does it say about you two getting one?”

“Uhh,” he said, sitting down his mug. “That we’re best friends?”

There was silence, and then MJ was patting Bin on the back, trying to clear the boy’s throat from the coffee he had just choked on.

And the thing is, Rocky was never good at denying Sanha of what he wanted. The boy was too good at manipulation, and he had always planned on asking Sanha where he had learnt the trick, but in all honesty, he was kind of scared to hear the answer.

The boy in question was kneeling on the ground now, the knees of his jeans no doubt stained from the concrete floors. There were lots of other dogs Sanha could have fallen in love with, but he chose the awkwardly small white one, who would be needing washed constantly, who would – no doubt – end up dirtying their sheets despite Sanha’s promise that he’d stay on his bed in the laundry.

Sanha turned to look up at Rocky now, eyes shiny still, though looking closer to tears than before. Rocky felt his interior crack, and then his exterior, too, and he caught the moment Sanha saw his resilience break. He used this to his advantage, because he was savage and knew how to play his cards. He pushed his bottom lip out, licked it a little, and Rocky knew this feeling. He knew it – he’d felt it so many times with Sanha before. This was his anatomy making him _cave._

Rocky wasn’t an idiot, he knew Sanha was attractive. Over the course their year and a half friendship, Sanha’s features had matured and evened out, the length of his body no longer gangly and awkward. And Rocky _wasn’t an idiot_ , he knew he found his friend attractive, and Sanha was surely smart enough to detect that. He must be, because every chance he got, he used the lip puts and the shimmery eyes to get his way. You’d think with how often he was exposed to it, Rocky would have some kind of defence mechanism. You’d be wrong.

Rocky just sighed at the boy, rubbing his forehead as he nodded at him. Sanha squealed, zipping up to his feet to press a wet kiss to Rocky’s cheek, before scurrying to the counter. Soon, the volunteer had the _coton du tulear_ on a bright yellow leash and passed it to Sanha to hold, who _was_ crying now.

The lady smiled between them, looking to Rocky as she asked, “how long have you been together?”

Sanha froze where he was patting the puppy, glancing up at Rocky wide-eyed. Those eyes shifted from him back to the dog, then back to Rocky again, before settling on the shopkeeper. Rocky spluttered, let out an incomprehensible squawk before Sanha managed something human.

“Not long!”

_What?_

“And by not long,” Sanha started again, voice higher than normal, “I mean not at all!”

The lady pulled back, “oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed—”

Sanha held up a hand to stop her, because Rocky most definitely wasn’t going to be getting any words out of his mouth anytime soon. “It’s okay, mistakes are made!” There wasn’t much else to say, so Rocky darted from the adoption centre and out into the carpark.

 _Rocky was never good at denying Sanha_ , so thirty minutes later the pair headed inside their apartment with a white ball of energy at their side.

 

❤ ❤ ❤

Every Sunday, Sanha would disappear in the evening to his parent’s place on the other side of the river for dinner. It had been their family tradition to have a roast on Sunday’s, and with Sanha at university, it had become more and more special to the boy. He loved his parents more than anything in the world – more than Rocky himself, even, and more than Pillow, their dog – and the evenings meant the world to him. Which was why Rocky was freaking out, because Sanha had invited him to the dinner tonight, and he didn’t know what to _wear._

It’s not like it actually mattered. Sanha never dressed up – just his usual jeans a t-shirt. Sanha had always spoken about how relaxed his family was, and Rocky knew not to be nervous. It’s just, he’s known Sanha for over two years now, and he hadn’t even _met_ his parents yet. Sanha had met his around eight months ago, albeit in passing, but the introductions had been made. Rocky had always felt a little uncomfortable the nights Sanha would dart away, because he wasn’t sure if it meant Sanha hadn’t wanted Rocky to meet his parents.

But then Sanha had asked, as if it were nothing. Or rather, not asked, but told him that he was going to dinner tonight. Rocky was sprawled out shirtless on his favourite spot – the couch – with Pillow tucked up beside him, watching something about hoarders and cleaning tips. Rocky took mental notes to give to Sanha later in regards to his bedroom. Sanha had strolled out of said pigsty, and threw a towel at his head.

“Go shower. You stink.”

Rocky screwed his face up at him from underneath the towel, pulling the offending material out of his mouth and tossing it to the floor. “No.”

Sanha put his hands on his hips, trying to look serious but looking dorky instead. Rocky said as much, to which Sanha gasped, running forward and grabbing the towel again.

“Park Minhyuk, you will shower right this instant. I won’t have you meeting my mother smelling like this.”

The towel was in his face again, and Sanha had left back to his bedroom, and Rocky was left slouching on a couch he felt very uncomfortable on all of a sudden.

Hence, the panicking now. He wanted to make a good, lasting impression on Sanha’s parents. Sanha meant the world to him, and Sanha had said the same thing about him too, on numerous occasions, and the whole thing was enough to set his hear ablaze. He didn’t know why though. He didn’t know what all of this meant, these feelings he had. He put them down to complete fondness for the younger boy; total admiration for his best friend, unlike anyone else he had ever met.

So, he pulled on a simple pair of jeans, but a red silk top he was saving for a special occasion, and even brushed a little eyeshadow on, too. He grabbed his coat and was out of his room in an instant, missing the way Sanha looked at him as though an angel had just descended on their apartment.

 

Rocky wasn’t really sure why he was nervous. The first thing Sanha’s Mum had said to him – after she released him from a bone-crushing hug – was “my goodness, Rocky, Sanha said you were cute, but my _word,_ aren’t you just the handsomest little thing!”

His cheeks felt permanently red the entire evening. Sanha’s parents were diligent in the way they asked him about everything – from where he got his hair done (“Sanha ought to start going there, I think”) to how his studies were going. There was one question, though, that got him a little breathless and unable to speak.

“So, Rocky,” it was Sanha’s Dad now, who was hilarious and boisterous and had one of those, deep rolling laughs that could send you in a fit of your own chuckles. It was contagious, like Sanha’s. “How long have you two been together?”

Rocky choked on his juice.

“Yeah,” Sanha’s mum butted in. “Sanha’s a little shy with this sort of thing. He never shares _anything,_ ” she nudged him with her elbow, causing him to knock into Sanha on his other side.

“Um,” he said, though he didn’t really register himself saying it. “We’re not,” he coughed, ears red. “I mean, we’re not actually together. Sanha and I – we’re just friends.” Sanha’s parents looked at him genuine dismay, as though he had just spoken a different language.

“What?” Sanha’s Mum sat down her fork.

“We’re just friends. Best friends.” Rocky was kind of amazed at how sturdy his voice sounded.

“yeah, Mum – just _friends_ ,” Sanha said now, hand grasping Rocky’s need under the table, squeezing it and not letting go for the rest of the evening.

 

❤ ❤ ❤

Two years ago, When Sanha had finally graduated, Rocky would never have thought they’d end up working at the same magazine.

It was a dream come true, though, when Sanha came home from his walk with Pillow, beaming down at Rocky on the couch. Rocky smiled up at the boy fondly, barely registering the youngers words. When he caught them, though, he kicked Sanha’s legs out from underneath him, causing him to collapse down onto his chest with Pillow wrapped in between them, and Rocky just pressed kisses all over his face as they screamed together, Pillow yapping just as loud where he was wedged between their chests.

They were on their lunch break together, and the routine was the same as it always was. Sanha was ranting about nothing in particular, a silly video he’d seen, or a book he was reading, and his hands were flying around animatedly in front of his face. Rocky had his elbow on the table, his cheek resting on his palm, as he watched the boy’s lips. When Rocky graduated, it had been a painful reminder that they would see less of each other now. Rocky had quit his job at the coffee cart after being employed by the magazine, and it broke his heart knowing Sanha was often manning it alone now. Since that time apart, Rocky had begun to notice how much his happiness actually depended on Sanha. With him not around as much, he noticed himself not being as bubbly or as bright, but then as soon as they reunited, everything was the same again.

The realisation wouldn’t have been so troublesome if Rocky could read minds. Because across the table, Sanha was thinking the very same thing. Sanha knew what the strange bubbling feeling was at the bottom of his stomach whenever Rocky looked at him, especially like this, eyes glazed over with wonder and mouth a little ajar. He looked like an angel, but also sinful, and the entire thing made Sanha whimper internally.

Suddenly, though, Rocky’s phone started to ring. This in itself was strange, because the only person who ever called Rocky was Sanha himself, or his brother, who—

_Shit. His brother._

Sanha looked up in panic at Rocky, who looked at Sanha the exact same way. Rocky didn’t need to pick up the phone to know what was happening, but he did anyway, forever grateful that Sanha had already packed up all their gear and was leading them to the elevators.

Rocky’s older brother was going to be a _Dad_.

 

Rocky had burst out of the bedroom one evening, cheeks red and sobbing, and had collapsed so heavily into Sanha’s arms that they almost tumbled to the floor. Sanha frantically grabbed at Rocky’s lifeless limbs, brushing his hair out of his face as he led him to the couch. He so desperately wanted to know what was going on, but Rocky didn’t look in any place to talk right now. Instead, Sanha took Rocky’s phone from his hand, wincing at the red marks pressed into his palms, and looked at the screen.

It was a text from Helen, Rocky’s brother’s girlfriend. It was a picture, no caption, and at first Sanha didn’t know what it was. He was confused, turned to Rocky, who was still crying but was now looking a little brighter as he stared at the photo. Sanha, confused, narrowed his eyes at the photo, turned his head on the side and then—

 _“Oh my god! Rocky!”_ Rocky began giggling as Sanha whacked him over and over again. “ _She’s pregnant!”_

 

They got to the hospital in plenty of time, Rocky sending a quick text to his brother saying they were out in the waiting room. They couldn’t hear any yelling yet, or any vulgar profanities, but Sanha was sure they were to come. He wasn’t sure how long they sat for – there had been no reply from his brother, but he was a little preoccupied – but when Sanha recognised Helen’s yells from down the hall, he thought he was going to hurl.

His hands clenched on the arm rests of the seat, bounced his knee up and down as he tried to focus on his breathing. He wasn’t doing very well when he felt Rocky’s hand pry one of his off the chair, and tangled their fingers together. The moment Rocky’s lips kissed the back of his hand, Sanha felt strangely calmer, and judging by the look in Rocky’s eyes, he’d detected the tension dissipate from his body.

He mumbled against his palm, pressed another kiss there, then pulled away, dropping their hands in his lap as he stroked mindless patterns against Sanha’s skin.

They had never done this before, the kisses on the hand, but it felt normal, familiar, and Sanha wasn’t going to complain when it was as sweet as relief to him. The mumbling became a little more comprehensible after a while, and Sanha realises Rocky had been saying “ _I’m going to be an uncle_ ” over and over for the past ten minutes. Sanha dragged their hands from his lap, and pressed his own kisses to Rocky’s hand.

 

Three hours later, and Sanha was woken up by Rocky dragging a finger down the side of his face. He woke slowly, peacefully, to the sound of distant monitors beeping and feet shuffling across linoleum. From what he could hear, there was no screaming.

Then, ever so gently, he felt something warm being placed into his arms. It was sort of rectangular and wrapped in a white knitted quilt, and it smelt fresh and clean and so alive that Sanha knew he was going to cry any second. He leant down to the baby in his arms, pressed a kiss to the forehead, not caring that a single tear had fallen to the blanket. He turned to Rocky beside him, who was crying too, and then he looked to Rocky’s brother in front of him. He wasn’t crying now, but it was obvious he had been. Of course, he had been, he was a Dad now, to a beautiful baby boy who looked so damn healthy and radiant Sanha felt queasy because of it. It wasn’t even his child, but the pride and love he already felt was intoxicating.

Rocky looked to his brother, nodding, who then said lowly, as to not wake the baby. “Sanha, I’d like you to meet Park Ji Sung.”

Sanha whimpered, pressed the baby closer to his chest. “It’s so lovely to meet you Ji Sung,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He passed the baby back to his Dad, who bowed a little, before returning to his girlfriend.

 

Later, when Rocky and Sanha are watching Ji Sung through the glass window of the nursery, Rocky shoves him with his elbow. “I have to tell you something.”

Sanha looked at him, nodded, then returned his eyes to the newborn.

“He didn’t tell you Ji Sung’s middle name.”

Sanha hummed, giggling a little when the baby kicked its feet inside the blankets, eyes still squeezed shut. Sanha wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but he swore the baby looked just like Rocky.

“San Ha.”

Sanha turned him, “yeah. What’s the middle name?”

Rocky grinned, shaking his head. “No silly, that _is_ the middle name.”

Sanha stumbled back a little, but caught himself before he banged too loudly against the glass. His eyes were wide and he felt stung by the amount of bewilderment he felt. _They used_ his _name?_

He was fish mouthing, opening and closing and unable to form any words, unable to make any sounds at all, when a nurse headed their way. Rocky noted that she was very young, perhaps still on placement, and her hands were shaking a little that made Rocky realise she was nervous. Panic set in, just a dab of it, despite knowing that Ji Sung was fine. His mind drifted to Helen in the other room.

The words that came out of her mouth though made him laugh. “How long have you two been together?”

He laughed and laughed, and never took the time to reply at first, because Sanha was crying into his shoulder and he was an _uncle_ and everything just felt so surreal, that he couldn’t control his emotions anymore. The nurse was smiling at the two of them, crying on each other, hands clasped tightly against each other.

Rocky shook his head, “we’re not together. This is Sanha, he’s my best friend.”

The nurse looked somewhat taken aback, though not disheartened by exhausted tone. Sanha muttered something against his shoulder, and the nurse indicated a little _pardon?_

Sanha pulled his head away long enough to say “this is Rocky, he’s my best friend,” before he settled his head back into the crook of his neck, another batch of tears finding solace there.

 

 ❤ ❤ ❤

He hadn’t cried this much since Ji Sung was born, and that was three years ago now.

They were still in their same apartment – far too attached to it at this point to bother looking for somewhere bigger, better, that actually fitted their higher budget now. The apartment was home, and Pillow was comfortable there, and the whole thing was too simple and easy and loved to need changing.

Sanha was crying because Rocky was _leaving_ him. Albeit, only for a month, but still – Rocky was flying to America, and Sanha couldn’t go with him. He’d been invited, of course he had been, but that meant missing Christmas with his family in Korea, and that just wasn’t something Sanha could do.

Rocky’s family and Sanha’s family were on very good terms, though financially it was too difficult to get the whole family to America for Christmas. Rocky’s parents had decided to go there for Christmas as they had retired that same year, and thought a holiday abroad was a good celebration. And it was – Sanha was so excited for them, for Rocky but. But it’s just. _Sanha was going to miss him._

They were tangled up in each other now – something they did often actually. They never told anyone this, but the second bedroom of their apartment was barely used now. Neither of them were sure when it had happened, but at some point, Sanha had slipped into Rocky’s bed as if it were his own, and had never left again. From then on, Rocky’s bedroom became _their_ bedroom, and Sanha’s old room was left for storage – with each other’s faces in each other’s necks.

Sanha could smell Rocky’s cologne – the one he’d bought him for Christmas last year – and Sanha was sure Rocky could smell his own on him, too. They stood there for God knows how long, just clinging to each other, not saying a single word. But words weren’t really needed. They were thinking the same thing, anyway, about how much they were going to miss each other, about how difficult the time apart was actually going to be.

There was an elderly couple standing beside them, biding farewell to a young girl Sanha presumed to be their grandchild. She kissed them both one last time before hurrying to her gate. Sanha saw Rocky’s parents by the gate, too, waiting for Rocky to join them. Sanha gave him a little shove, then jumped when he felt someone clear their throat beside him.

The little elderly lady had a gummy smile, and she was throwing it their way now. Her hand was in the man’s beside her, who was taller than her by a head, and Sanha wondered how long they had been together.

She was thinking the same thing too, because she asked, “how long have you two been together?”

Sanha shook his head, so did Rocky, who was pulling away from Sanha now. “We’re not,” he grumbled, grabbing his bag off the floor. He pressed a long, wet kiss to Sanha’s cheek, lingering there for longer than Sanha had expected. Long enough for Sanha to close his eyes and bathe in the domesticity of it all, and then whimper at the loss of it. He watched Rocky retreat to the gate, to join his parents, to get on the bloody plane and disappear for a month.

Sanha just clasped his cheek, feeling the ghost-like presence of his lips there, and said to the couple, “we’re best friends.”

 

Sanha cried every night with Pillow until Rocky came home. 

 

 ❤ ❤ ❤

Ji Sung was four years old, which meant he wouldn’t go to sleep unless Uncle ‘Ocko (R was still difficult for the boy to pronounce) said goodnight to him.

 _Which meant_ Rocky was hiding in the back of the room saying goodnight to his nephew over the phone while everyone drank excess alcohol and danced to cheesy Christmas carols. Sanha was drinking his wine lazily, watching the elder boy across the room talk animatedly into his phone. When he saw him saying goodbye, Sanha pushed off the wall he was leaning against, and started his way over to him.

Rocky caught sight of him as he hung up the phone, rolling his eyes and beckoning him closer. When Sanha stopped in front of him, he felt a little breathless.

With time, Rocky had undergone another round of puberty or something, because he looked so different to the Rocky he knew in university. No worse, absolutely not any worse, just different. His personality, though, that had stayed the same, and Sanha knew that for as long as they stuck together, it never would.

He was about to open his mouth to ask about Ji Sung when Dongmin and Jinwoo started yelling in their ears.

Rocky startled, yelped a little, whereas Sanha just cowered back, bumping to Dongmin’s shoulder.

Jinwoo was giggling hysterically at something Dongmin was doing, which involved having one of his arms up in the air, above his head, above Rocky’s too, and when Rocky let out an _Oh shit,_ Sanha didn’t need to look up. _Mistletoe._

The little _shits_ had been causing them trouble since they’d started working together all those years ago. Dongmin and Jinwoo were convinced they were dating in secret, because the way they supposedly looked at each other was unbearable – and that was coming from Jinwoo, who would witness Dongmin and Rocky’s friend, Bin, together all the time.

The thought of that would always make Sanha a little uncomfortable, because his feelings for Rocky were that damn obvious – obvious to everyone but Rocky himself. It had been this way for years now. Sanha, avoiding close and intimate situations with Rocky as much as he physically could.

But here he was, staring up at Sanha with a look in his eyes he’d never seen before. It was vulnerability and it was desire, but above all else, it was resignation. Sanha realised, as Rocky started to chuckle and lean forward, that Rock had resigned himself to the idea of kissing Sanha. He knew that there was no way out of it – not with the way his friends cheered them on, the mistletoe waving above their heads; now with the way Sanha’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut as the lips of his best friend pressed against his.

And lights flared and soared and exploded behind his eyelids, and it was so cliché, so _tacky_ , that he compared it to fireworks. It felt like a movie – expect, the movies never did a very good at explaining it, because this was better than all those romance movies. This was so much better than all the happy endings he had ever watched and read and _seen._ Christ, Rocky was so much better than anything else.

If Sanha died tonight, he’d die happy knowing he got to taste the flavour of Rocky’s lips, happy knowing that even at twenty-four years old, Sanha’s first kiss had gone to the one person he knew it belonged to all along.

 

❤ ❤ ❤

They were walking back up the pavement to their apartment, hearing the little scratches Pillow was making against the door as he heard them approaching. The kiss had been chaste, ending quickly and messily, and Jinwoo and Dongmin had scattered away from them – drunkenly, Sanha pointed out – cheering and laughing about having caught it on camera. They hadn’t stayed long after that, both boys realising that they liked that kiss a little too much, more than best friends were supposed to.

Rocky was fumbling with his keys when they stopped by the front door. He dropped them, and Sanha realised he was just as nervous as he was. He grabbed them from the pavement hastily, tugging them until he found the right key. Just as he went to unlock it, Sanha’s hand darted out, snatching at his wrist.

He tugged it back, away from the door, twisting it slightly so Rocky’s body was facing his directly. Rocky was breathless, eyes staring over Sanha’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact.

“Rocky – Rock, look at me,” Sanha knew he sounded desperate, but he was, he was always desperate for this. For Rocky’s attention.

The boy – _man_ – listened to him, eyes meeting his. Sanha felt his will crack, his heart breaks the tiniest little bit, when he heard him whimper. When he watched the second where Rocky’s eyes flickered down to his lips and then back to his eyes, it was the only invitation Sanha needed.

He leant forward quickly, pressed his lips to Rocky’s with such intensity, that the elder boy slammed against the door. He groaned – in pain, Sanha assumed, so he rubbed his hand along his lower back in what he hoped was a soothing apology. His eyes were squeezed close so tightly, that colours were bursting in the darkness, and Rocky’s lips were so soft and plaint and persistent, much like the rest of the boy was under his hands now. He was whimpering again, louder this time, high-pitched and needy and Sanha got it. He did, he understood – Sanha had only just had his first kiss, had never been touched like this before. He knew Rocky had kissed people before, but he knew nothing of his sex life – or perhaps, the lack thereof. It wasn’t something he ever let himself think too much about, because he’d always feel his blood boil in jealousy at the idea of someone else touching him.

That didn’t matter now, though, because Rocky fell apart under his hands, something he didn’t think would ever happen. Whenever he imagined this, the roles were reversed, but Sanha wasn’t complaining – he’d never complain when it came to Rocky. They broke apart, and Sanha’s chest was heaving, and Rocky felt closer than ever. Hot skin against hot skin, and Sanha could resist when Rocky leant his head to the side, exposing the long line of his throat, untainted and blemish-free. Something Sanha was going to change tonight, tomorrow, and however long Rocky would let him. Sanha didn’t know how long they made out against their front door for, before they scrambled inside into privacy, but he did know that it felt like a little piece of forever.

 

 

❤ ❤ ❤

Later, when Ji Sung is fourteen, Sanha will pick him up after school one day, and will notice how nervous the boy seems. Sanha will pester him about it the entire drive home, until he snaps, and confesses that he’s got a crush on this girl in his class. Sanha will coo and giggle as the young boy talks about love and marriage and everything in between, and then he’ll ask him about Uncle Rocky, will ask “how long have you two been together?”

Sanha will press his lips together in contemplation, and turn to look at the wide-eyed boy who looked so much like Rocky, and would say—

“Well, it was a Tuesday morning, and it was raining—”

 

❤ ❤ ❤

(Decades later, when it feels like love has shifted and died, Minhyuk – Ji Sung’s own son – will ask him how long uncle Rocky and Uncle Sanha were together. Ji Sung will shake his head and laugh, will tell the young boy “years, Minhyuk. Years and years. And guess what?”

“What?” The younger will ask, leaning forward in his seat, desperate to know more.

He said “they’re going to be together for billions more,” and then pointed up to the stars).  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello at [softsocky!](http://softsocky.tumblr.com/)


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